


A Warm Place To Land

by Little_Plebe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Canon Compliant, Except that one thing the makers uselessly added without any reason, F/M, Friendship is Magic, Intimacy, You know what it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:58:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9214022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Plebe/pseuds/Little_Plebe
Summary: He goes away to escape the cold... and finds warmth in her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GingerLocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerLocks/gifts).



> Thank you for the amazing prompts you gave me, GingerLocks. I know I'm late in posting this story but as you can see, it turned out to be a giant monster of a one-shot, which I swear I wasn't aiming for. Anyway, hope you like it. Happy new year!
> 
> A big thank you to Merideath for encouragements, for telling me I'm not inadequate and for patiently holding my hand while I moaned and complained about Steve and Darcy and why those two wouldn't let me finish the story at a reasonable wordcount.
> 
> Finally, I'm indebted to dresupi for the motivation and help she has given me on this story. I honestly think I wouldn't have been able to complete this monster fic if it wasn't for her. I shed real tears when she messaged me and told me she was willing to help. Thank you, thank you so much, my friend.

It’s the near constant stream of mumbled curse words and gloomy blue eyes that finally drives Tony to shove a brochure into Steve’s face, begging the blond to take a break from their routine life in New York and spend the winter in Tony’s vacation home in Hawaii. It’s not that Steve is afraid of the cold or that he can’t handle it. He handled it rather well when he was buried fifty feet under the ice for seventy long years. The simple truth is that he disliked the cold even before his heroic plunge in the Arctic. Pre-serum Steve had spent many a winters battling pneumonia, bundled up in a dozen blankets, smelling of balm and spirits and sweat. During the war, he had seen men struggle with frostbite and perish in the trenches whenever it got too much to bear. After having been through so much in his life, the one thing that makes Steve Rogers immensely uncomfortable is the cold. It reminds him of sickness, death and his mother, which in turn saddens and irritates him and Steve is prone to lash out when irritated.

It’s turning out to be a particularly chilly winter that year and Steve has nothing to distract himself with—no undercover missions, no villains to slay, no malfunctioning robots to behead and no Accords to analyze and fight over. So, after yet another expletive filled sparring session in the gym followed by the death of the beloved Popsicle box in the fridge (which lies crushed on the floor of the Avengers kitchen) Steve takes Tony’s advice and packs his bags for Hawaii.

He isn’t too keen on leaving the Avengers behind for selfish reasons. He’s their leader. Should something happen, he should be there to fight with the rest of them. Everyone needs a break, not just him, so why is he the only one who’s going away? He shares his thoughts with Thor and Bruce, the only two sane people he knows who will give him better advice than ‘A getaway will be good for your soul, Cap. Plus, your constant grumbling is getting on our nerves.’

Thor and Bruce essentially tell him the same thing but their way of wording it is different—mature and wiser. Speaking with them makes him feel better and eliminates the concerns he has about leaving. He’s still a bit put out that none of his friends want to accompany him. He had at least expected Bucky to go with him.

“Stark’s building me a new arm,” Bucky informs him two days before his flight. “Stronger and more resilient than this one.”

His tone is casual, almost bored, but Steve has known Bucky Barnes since they were kids. He can sense Bucky’s excitement. It’s in the twinkle of his eyes, in the restless tick of his fingers, in the whirring of his metal arm plates and in the way he can’t stop talking about Christmas. It isn’t hard to guess that the new prosthetic is going to be a Christmas gift from Tony.

“Will you come back for the holidays?” Bucky asks. He’s curled up on Steve’s couch, watching him pack.

“Dunno. Maybe.”

He’s not being vague on purpose. It’s a week before December and he really isn’t sure when he’ll want to return. It could be a month or two months or it could be a couple of _weeks_ before he gets home sick and decides to come back. His heart tells him that if he had a choice, if everyone else was going to Hawaii with him, he wouldn’t want to return at all. Ever. Or at least till spring.

Steve knows he is perhaps being a bit too intolerant of winter but there’s nothing to do in New York and the photographs in the brochure Tony gave him honestly look very alluring. So, he decides not to think too much and just go with the flow.

Over the course of the next couple of days, Steve is the most sought after person in the facility. One by one, everyone visits him to bid him farewell and a good holiday. They bring him gifts too, which he’s most reluctant to accept, not just because he didn’t get them anything in return but because they are the most bizarre early-Christmas gifts ever. Sam gives him mismatched socks, Jane and Thor get him a box of pop tarts that he will later demolish on the plane, Bruce holds up a packet of herbal tea and advises drinking it every day, Natasha tosses him a pair of sunglasses which, ironically, she had stolen from him months ago, Wanda gives him her stress ball, Vision bestows a stiff hug and Scott gives him a Barbie doll that has the fakest, most plastic grin ever.

Steve accepts all gifts gamely, wearing a small wry smile all the while, but he pulls up short at the Barbie nestled in a tall pink box.

“Do I look like a five-year-old girl to you?” he demands of Scott, who has the grace to look embarrassed.

“Can you take photos of the doll, please, wherever you go in Hawaii?”

“Huh?” That’s one reply he wasn’t expecting from a fellow Avenger. Maybe Scott has finally gone cuckoo; joining the Avengers initiative would do that to the weak-minded.

“For my daughter,” Scott elaborates sheepishly. “She wants a well-traveled doll for Christmas.”

Steve can’t help asking “Why?” because what does that even mean – a well-traveled doll? It’s just a doll.

“I dunno. She’s smart, I guess,” is Scott’s slightly defensive response and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll do it but you better not tell Bucky I’m helping you with this silly mission.”

Turns out, Scott’s gift isn’t the worst. Bucky gets him a pair of bright green Santa print underwear that Steve immediately dislikes and the day he’s leaving, DUM-E delivers him a card from Tony. The front of the card features a hand-drawn sketch of an ugly, square jawed man wearing a baseball cap with the words ‘I am Cap.’ Bucky, who’s stopped by for a final goodbye, snorts loudly at the sketch while Steve purses his lips at Tony’s horrendous attempt to draw him. The back of the card has a short message. _You owe me a box of Popsicles._

“Right,” says Steve, tossing the card over his shoulder. It floats and lands on his bed.

He doesn’t see Bucky surreptitiously stuff it into his suitcase with all the other presents. He’s busy checking his bathroom and closet to see if he’s missing anything. Once he’s sure he has everything he needs, he gives Bucky a brief hug and walks out, feeling sad and heavy with anticipation at the same time. The journey to Hawaii is lonely but he settles in for a long nap and mumbles a short prayer of thanks to Tony for offering him a way to escape.

 

“Welcome to Hawaii, Captain Rogers.”

The young woman waiting for him at Honolulu airport introduces herself as Darcy Lewis and gives his hand a firm shake. Her attire pulls him up short and Steve can’t help the automatic dip of his eyes as he takes her in. Dressed in jean shorts and a spaghetti-strapped white blouse, with dark curls piled atop her head, Darcy looks more like a tourist than a local. Steve checks over her shoulder to see if she’s accompanied by anyone but it looks like she’s come alone. He shakes his head when she gestures to his bag and silently motions for her to lead the way.

The ground staff is all smiles as they pass, and certain areas of the airport are adorned with multicolored Christmas decorations that Steve captures in his StarkPhone to send to Bucky and Sam. It always amazes him how cheerful people are at Christmas time. Hell, it’s not even December yet and everyone is already looking for a tree, planning a dinner menu and wrapping colorful presents. He’s still tapping away on his phone with one hand when Darcy gets his attention. They have reached the exit.

The moment he steps out of the sliding doors of the airport, a blast of warm air hits him and Steve sighs happily, pausing to shrug off his jacket.

“First time on the island?” Darcy asks, clambering clumsily into the driver’s seat of a dirty yellow jeep parked nearby.

Steve throws his bag in the back and climbs in uncertainly beside her. “Yeah.”

He has to grip the edge of the windshield with his right hand when Darcy steps forcefully on the pedal, making the jeep fly down the road. She shares important facts about the island with him while she drives, courteously pointing out noteworthy places for him to visit if he wants, but Steve has a tough time paying attention to anything she says. Her level of driving expertise is clearly on the low side and she has awful navigation skills. Steve has to stop himself from shouting ‘watch out!’ a dozen times while she prattles on about fish and beaches and water sports, not paying a lick of mind to other vehicles or pedestrians. It’s a miracle how she doesn’t hit anyone.

About half an hour later—which honestly seems like a lot more than that to Steve—the jeep skids to a halt outside Tony’s enormous villa. Darcy jumps out and lifts his bag from the back seat. For a tiny thing, she’s strong enough to be able to heft a fully packed, big suitcase with the added weight of Steve’s shield in there. His gaze involuntarily drops to her legs as he follows her to the main door. She has the most amazing legs. Not too long, appropriately fleshy and beautifully tanned. He feels ashamed of ogling.

“Press your thumb here,” Darcy says, pointing to a panel in the wall, “and then lean forward so that it can do the retina scan.”

Steve does as he’s told and Darcy fiddles with the panel until it glows green and displays the words, ‘Biometrics saved. Access confirmed.’ The door opens into a large living area, well-lit and washed in pastels of green and blue. A plush couch sits in the middle of the room facing a big screen TV, a shelf stacked with books stands in a corner and to the left is a big kitchen space where Steve’s gaze lingers. He mutely studies the classy interior of the villa and nods dumbly when Darcy says, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She spins to face him and he lowers his gaze back to hers. “So… there are three rooms upstairs. You can choose one or alternate sleeping in all of them if you wish. They offer different views. Pool’s back there.” She jerks her thumb to the glass doors behind her and Steve raises his eyes to look over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of shimmering blue in the distance. “Kitchen is fully stocked if you wish to prepare a homemade meal and the beach is a five minute walk from here. If you need anything or just want some company, holler.”

Steve stares uncomprehendingly at her. Is she going to stay in the villa with him?

“I live just across the lawn,” she tells him. “In the servant’s lodge.”

She’s a servant?

Darcy answers his unspoken question with a chuckle. “No, I’m not a servant. The servant comes early every morning. He’ll be gone before you wake up. He lives nearby, so I took over the lodge because I have no place to stay and I’ll be gone in a few weeks anyway. So…” She shrugs. “It’s a nice cozy little house. Bigger than my last apartment, mind you. I like it a lot. I’m talking too much. I’ll go now.”

Before he can get a word in, she circles around him and practically sprints out of the door. Steve grips the handle of his bag as he watches her go, eyes following her until she disappears from view. His phone beeps with a message from Tony asking him how he likes his new home and thoughts of the bubbly brunette soon leave his mind as he wanders around the villa, exploring aimlessly. Boy, is he going to love staying there!

 

Hawaii isn’t anything like he had expected. It’s not just beaches, loose colorful outfits and floral garlands. It’s nice people, rich culture, occasional storms and a certain sense of freedom that Steve has never felt before. He spends his days exploring the beach, indulging in swimming and water sports, two things he was never able to do before because they made him sick. He likes driving around in the jeep, visits various tourist attractions and loves breathing in the fresh, humid air of the island scented with Hawaiian poppies and other exotic flowers. He has never before seen this much greenery anywhere and he has been to a lot of places.

He makes friends with an old ice cream cart lady, a couple of life guards who are bigger and more muscular than Steve, a few local women he met when he went to see the Hula dance show on the Waikiki beach, and a very lively and excitable dolphin at the Oahu Sea Life Park. Tiko, the dolphin, is the only friend he visits almost daily. He’s also the only friend who cannot and will not take pictures of Scott’s Barbie.

“You’re embarrassed, aren’t you?” Steve asks, sitting at the edge of Tiko’s pool. The dolphin clicks and grunts and dives back into the water as if offended. Steve sighs and looks at the Barbie in his hand. “Me, too, buddy. Me, too.”

In spite of her offer for company, Steve hardly sees Darcy for the next few days. She leaves every morning when he’s off jogging and returns late. He sees her stumbling through the gate one evening, her hair a mess and feet barely holding her up. He wonders where she goes and what she does but doesn’t do anything about it for the first couple of weeks, simply waiting for her to get free and approach him. This newfound peace he has found there, combined with the wonderful climate, invigorates him and temporarily stifles his desire for company. But, as the days pass and exploring the villa turns into a boring habit and the beach loses its novelty, Steve finds himself craving some companionship. Out of all the people he has met on the island and the friends he has made, his mind settles firmly on Darcy and refuses to budge.

He’s taken to coming home early and spying on her from his upstairs balcony. She returns so late that sometimes he falls asleep in his chair, waiting for her. They have missed each other about a dozen times and Steve is starting to get frustrated with his luck.

Bucky is baffled by the single-minded focus with which he seeks Darcy.

“What’s so special about this dame that you’re dying to see her again?”

“I’m not _dying_ to see her.”

On the laptop screen, Bucky raises his eyebrows. “You never learned to lie good, Stevie.”

Steve glares at him. “Look, she’s a nice person and…”

“You figured that out in one meeting?” Bucky fakes an impressed look, the jerk.

Steve ignores him and continues coolly, “And on the way from the airport, she mentioned Tony. Don’t remember what she said but she called him by his first name, so that means she must know him.”

“That automatically makes her rainbows and unicorns?”

Steve sighs in the face of Bucky’s taunting incredulity. “I don’t even know why I tell you anything. You twist everything I say.” Before Bucky can work up a retort, a figure down below catches Steve’s attention and he shoots up, leaning over the balcony railing to catch a glimpse of Darcy. “Gotta go, Buck. She’s home.”

“What? Hey, wait!” But Steve’s already off, his best friend’s face on the laptop screen looking after his retreating form in open surprise. “What the heck?” Bucky mouths before signing off, resolving to talk to Natasha about this new development.

Clad in thin white pajama pants and without bothering to throw a shirt over his tank top, Steve races down the stairs, out of the door and across the lawn, coming to a halt outside Darcy’s home in record time. The door’s open and the woman in question is in the process of unbuttoning her shorts.

“Hi, Darcy.”

“Holy Maui!” She gasps, zipping up her shorts at the sight of Steve, who turns red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I saw you from the bal—I mean, the door was open and…”

“It’s okay,” she says, taking pity on him. “I’ve been living here alone for a while. Forgot you could wander past and see me stripping. My fault.” She smiles at him. “Come on in.”

He hesitates only for a second, then shuffles in, taking in the sight of her small living space. The place is like a garbage bin. It’s not smelly, no sir, but there’s junk everywhere. Her clothes are strewn carelessly on the floor, a stack of books totters in one corner of the room, odd knick-knacks and weird gizmos lay scattered all over, and the one thing that really stumps Steve is that the room is devoid of any furniture aside from a four-poster bed and a small vanity table leaning precariously on three short legs.

He wants to ask her about the lack of furniture but refrains in fear of sounding rude or judgmental. Darcy casually directs him to the only place to sit in the room and Steve perches uncomfortably at the edge of her bed, waiting for her to join him. Bucky would point and laugh if he ever saw Steve act so anxious to make friends with a strange dame.

“How are you liking the island, Captain?” Darcy asks, plopping down beside him.

“I like it here. It’s warm and beautiful and quiet,” he says, immediately latching on to the ice breaker question. “And there’s… I don’t know how to explain this… but there’s a strange sort of—”

“Music in the air?” finishes Darcy knowingly and Steve looks at her in surprise. She smiles. “You’re not crazy. I feel it, too.”

The way she says it, he knows she isn’t making it up. The music they’re talking about, it’s not something that he can hear. It’s something that he can feel, just like Darcy does, weird as it sounds. He’s glad she understands what he’s trying to say because explaining something like this to someone would be very difficult.

“Made new friends?”

Steve nods. “A few.”

“You should invite them over to the villa,” suggests Darcy. “Have a party… if you want, that is. I’m sure Tony won’t mind.”

“Okay.” He’s in no mood to host a party. He likes the peace of the villa, being located a little outside the residential area. Maybe if the rest of the Avengers were there, they would be hanging out and partying every day but Steve doesn’t really feel like inviting any strangers over. Except maybe Darcy. He wants to ask her but decides he’s going to work up to it.

“Are you a local?” By now, he’s pretty sure she isn’t but asks anyway.

She laughs. It’s a beautiful laugh, loud and open. “Christ, no! I’m from Idaho. But my job’s in New York… supposedly.”

His mind completely skips the ‘I’m from Idaho’ part and focuses on _she’s from New York_!

“Then, what are you doing here?” he inquires curiously.

“I like to travel,” she says, piquing his interest more. “Gave myself a year. Started with a road trip across the southern states of the US. Ended up in Mexico, then Brazil and now, here I am, volunteering at the Sea Life Park to afford being on the island.”

Steve starts. “You work at the Sea Life Park?” He goes there every day. How has he not seen her there before?

“Mmm hmm. In the seal exhibit. Why?” She swings her feet on the bed and scoots back until she’s leaning against the headboard, her legs stretched out before her. Steve tries not to stare. Like the first time he saw her, she’s wearing denim shorts that end at her upper thighs, baring long smooth legs to his unhindered gaze. A loose green crop top sits just above a slit of well-tanned stomach that manages to hold his attention for longer than absolutely appropriate.

He forces his gaze back to her face and explains, “I visit the park a lot. It’s strange that we never ran into each other.”

Darcy shakes her head with a twinkle in her eye. “Stranger things have happened, Captain.”

He bites back a smile. She’s right, of course. “Please, call me Steve.”

“Okay. Steve.” For some reason, her cheeks tinge pink.

Steve continues asking her questions. She’s very candid about her work and funny in the way she narrates everything. From little work anecdotes to Hawaiian language misinterpretation, Darcy has a lot of stories to tell. Steve’s entire attention is on her, so much that he’s completely unaware of everything around him except her voice.

There are times when he finds himself zoning out, his ears shutting down so that his eyes can focus on her hair, her eyelashes, her lips, the column of her throat, and he has to physically shake himself to pay attention to what she’s saying. She tells him about the inhabitants of the seal exhibit, how fond she is of everyone there and how sad she was to leave.

“You quit?” Steve interjects. “Why?”

“It was a two months volunteer programme,” Darcy explains. “My two months are over, so I’m out.”

“But they paid you.”

“Yes. A small amount for the work I was doing there.” She pauses and smiles excitedly. “Next, I’m going to be working at a retirement home.”

Steve stares at her for some time and then shakes his head in awe. “How do you live like this?”

“I guess I have no other choice if I want to travel and do nice things for others.” She shrugs. “It’s not that bad. I’m gaining a lot of experience, giving back to the community, stuff that I’ve always wanted to do.”

Steve nods. “It must be fulfilling, I guess, going wherever you want and surviving there on a meager budget. I know I could never do that.”

He means it and she looks pleased by his comment. “It is, yeah. I still miss home though. I have one more month here, then I’m going to Morocco for five weeks before getting my ass back to New York. Dunno if Jane still has a job for me but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

He doesn’t know who Jane is, so he assumes she must be Darcy’s ex-boss. He’s still wondering how anyone can let someone like Darcy go when she says, rather shyly, “You know, Christmas is in three weeks and I’m a little surprised you aren’t spending it with your Avengers family.”

“Well…” What can he say to that? _I get cold_ sounds really lame in his own head. Because of the advancement in technology, there are other ways to get warm in cold weather, so saying that would only make him look stupid. He goes with his second—and valid sounding—reason. “I needed a break.”

She seems to understand. “Yeah, Thor said as much. He only has nice things to say about you.”

Steve looks at her quizzically. Now he’s truly intrigued. She knows Thor and she lets slip Tony’s name like he’s her old friend. Steve can’t figure out if that’s how she is or if she really _is_ familiar with the two Avengers. Seeing as how she addressed him as ‘Captain’ until he asked her otherwise, Steve figures maybe it’s the latter.

She must see the question in his eyes because she purses her lips and deadpans, “Tony didn’t tell you about me, did he?” Steve shakes his head, feeling a little guilty about not knowing who she is when he’s clearly supposed to. “I should have guessed when you asked if I’m a local. I used to work for Tony. About a year ago, he hired a small team of people to help him with the Accords amendment petition. At the time, I was in the facility working for Dr. Jane Foster.” Steve starts at the name. “Yeah, you know her, don’t you?”

“She’s Thor’s dame.”

Darcy grins at his slip of tongue. “Thor’s _dame_ , yes. We’re besties. Or at least _I_ think we’re besties. Jane can only be true friends with science.”

Steve nods seriously. He’s seen Jane Foster at work. It’s scary.

“So, anyway, there were very few people at the facility with most of you in hiding and I ran into Tony a couple of times and we got to talking. Before I knew it, he took me under his wing and offered me a job in his team.” She shrugs. “Would I say no to Tony Stark? I took it.”

“So, you helped shape the Accords?”

She looks proud. “If you wanna put it like that. But… but it wasn’t just me. We were a team. And I was still assisting Jane and Erik down in the labs. So…”

After hearing that, Steve has a million questions for Darcy that she answers patiently, telling him about how she met Thor, about Coulson stealing Jane’s stuff and her iPod, about the Dark Elves invasion in London… but there’s something that keeps nagging at the back of his mind. It’s a few minutes later that it strikes him and he cocks his head as he gives her a curious look. “You were at the facility.” Could she be there during his and Bucky’s trial? “When did you leave?”

“About a month after you and Sergeant Barnes moved into the facility, I guess. Why?”

Steve exhales, unable to hide his disappointment. “I can’t believe we never met being in the same compound. I’d have remembered you.”

Darcy blushes at the veiled compliment while Steve laments not being introduced to her before. They would have had so much time and maybe their relationship would have been different. Maybe they would have been best friends or… or—he gulps and a block of ice lands in his stomach—maybe she would have taken a liking to Bucky. Women always fall for Bucky… Wanda says it’s the air of mystery and charm surrounding him combined with his bad boy persona that makes Bucky so appealing to women.

So maybe it’s just as well that Steve met Darcy in Hawaii. Bucky can go suck on a lemon. Steve saw Darcy first.

He suddenly realizes that he barged into her home without a shirt on and sits up straight, feeling unusually self-conscious. Funny thing is, he has yet to catch Darcy admiring his body like most women do when they meet him. She has seen Thor shirtless, so that’s explanation enough, but Steve still feels like a tool for not returning the favor considering how much ogling he has been doing lately.

“I should go.” _Before the silence gets awkward_ , he thinks reluctantly. “It was nice talking to you, Darcy.”

Her brow creases at his abrupt decision to leave but she nods anyway and follows him to the door. “Hey, you wanna—”

Steve turns expectantly. “Yes?”

“—hang out tomorrow?” she finishes, looking a little taken aback by his eagerness.

“Yes!” He clears his throat. “I mean, yeah, that’d be cool.”

 

When he knocks on her door the next morning, she’s still sleeping. On the third knock, the door opens to reveal a nest of dark hair standing on end, a sleep creased cheek, chapped lips and crumpled clothes over a flushed body. Her skin radiates heat. Steve can _feel_ it. He glances at her bed and sees only one blanket. How is she so hot? Is she unwell? He frowns when she merely grunts and stumbles back to her bed, mumbling, “Five minutes.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have come so early. It is, after all, her first day off in two months.

She had left the door open and while Steve takes it as an invitation to enter, he doesn’t think it’s proper etiquette to sit in a stranger’s room while they are sleeping. He goes in anyway, crossing the distance between them and laying a tentative hand on her neck. She moans and burrows deeper into her pillow.

“Darcy, you have a fever.”

“Nuh-uh.”

He touches her arm worriedly. She feels hot and comfortable and incredibly alluring curled up on the bed in such a way. She makes him want to dive under the covers as well. “Do you want me to get you something?” he asks gently. “You’re heating up.”

“It’s fine. I’m naturally hot,” she croaks, turning her face to peek at him through one eye. “Hot. Get it?”

Her lips curve into a naughty smile and Steve stares, torn between amusement and concern, as she pushes herself into a sitting position and swipes a lazy hand through her messy hair. It’s amazing how appealing she looks even in her rumpled state.

“I’m not joking though,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “My skin is usually very warm but put me on a bed and I’ll heat up. No idea why.”

Something flutters low inside him at her words. Maybe it’s the fact that he gives off heat too or maybe it’s because he constantly craves warmth due to his aversion to cold, but he suddenly has a strong urge to touch her again, to pull her to him and hug her tight. She looks like she would fit against him just right.

Darcy squints up at him, her expression guarded. “You think that’s weird?”

Steve is quick to shake his head. “No. It’s not weird at all.” It earns him a smile. “Do you want me to wait for you at the villa?” he asks when she yawns loudly and gravitates toward her pillow again. She looks so _tired_. Yet, his question makes her sit up straight.

“No, no, don’t go. Give me fifteen minutes to take a shower and get ready. I swear I’m very fast.”

She jumps down from the bed and is already halfway to the bathroom when Steve speaks up. “Or,” he emphasizes. “We could stay in and I can cook you breakfast.”

Darcy stops in her tracks to give him a surprised look. “Really? You don’t mind?”

Steve smiles and shrugs. It doesn’t really matter to him where they go or what they do as long as they are together. He wants to get to know Darcy and that can be done without getting out of the house. He’s already planning what to make for breakfast while Darcy whoops and heads to the bathroom, a relieved smile on her lips.

Twenty minutes later, they are sitting in the villa kitchen munching on bacon and egg sandwiches. Darcy seems to be really enjoying herself and Steve chuckles when she moans on the last bite.

“Why is it so good? It’s just a simple sandwich,” she grumbles, staring at her empty plate sadly.

Steve swipes it from under her nose to place it in the dishwasher. “I put my love in it.”

He thinks he’s caught her off-guard with his sarcasm when she fails to react to his words—he’s caught a lot of people off-guard with his not-so-textbook personality—but then she scoffs and says, “Ha-ha,” and rises to help him clean up.

Cleaning up for Darcy means separating the bigger crumbs from the smaller crumbs scattered on the counter. The bigger crumbs are then assembled to make one tiny mountain and transferred collectively into her mouth. She looks adorably embarrassed when Steve catches her doing it.

“So, what are we doing?” she asks enthusiastically. “Watching movies?”

“If you want.”

“I want,” she says immediately. “Haven’t seen a good movie in a long time. Always so tired by the time I return home that all I can do is fall into bed.”

Steve takes a seat on the couch while Darcy rummages in the DVD drawer. She pulls out at least seven movies that she wants to see and can’t decide which one to put on first. Steve merely laughs and does nothing to help her, content with watching her war with herself.

“Also,” she continues chattily, finally queuing up _The Exorcist_. “I can’t watch a movie alone. I need someone to be there so that I can discuss the story and performance with them after.”

Steve grins. He totally gets that. After returning to the facility, he forced almost all his friends into watching movies with him. Tony never minds the post-movie discussion; he loves to talk and is always countering Steve’s opinions in the most hilarious and deliberate ways possible. Thor takes everything too seriously and almost all of Steve’s time goes into explaining stuff to him.

“No, he’s not dead in real life. Yes, we saw the knife go into his stomach. Yes, there’s a lot of blood. But he’s not dead… no, Thor, he’s not a wizard or a demigod.”

After Jane finds him going into their closet in search of the mysterious land of Narnia, she stops sending Thor to movie nights. Wanda and Vision don’t watch movies. Scott spends most of his free time with Cassie. Bruce prefers documentaries. That leaves Bucky, Sam and Natasha. The three of them don’t take too well to Steve’s insistence on discussing every movie they watch together.

“Why can’t you put your brain aside and just focus on the movie’s entertainment value?” grumbles Natasha.

“Why do you have to overthink everything?” moans Sam. “It’s just a movie.”

“I’m not making weepy faces when we watch Titanic again,” warns Bucky.

It’s always the same. Natasha has stopped coming to movie nights altogether. Sam falls asleep halfway through every movie and Bucky is more focused on hogging popcorn than what’s happening on the screen. Steve is one of those people who, when watching a movie, gets so engrossed that it’s almost painful when someone interrupts him by commenting or offering him snacks. It’s also beyond him how Sam can fall asleep without getting to the end, no matter how bad the movie is.

Darcy is just like him, in that regard. She sits close to him, subconsciously shifting closer every time he tries to put a respectable distance between them. Her one leg is tucked underneath her and the other is pulled up, both arms circling her bent knee. He can tell she isn’t very good with horror movies seeing how she spends more than half the movie hiding her eyes and muffling alarmed gasps.

Steve laughs at the expression on her face when the credits roll. “Why did you choose it if you can’t stomach it?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “How are you not scared right now?”

“I’m Captain America. I’m not scared of anything.”

She scoffs. “Cheeky. Who would have thought?”

They queue up two more movies after _The Exorcist_ , with sufficient breaks in between for snacks and conversation. Steve finds it increasingly hard to concentrate on the movie with Darcy sitting close to him, and he’s secretly glad Sam isn’t there to witness this moment of weakness because Darcy is clearly more fun to watch than _The Matrix_. She gets very excited by action sequences and slow motion shots, nearly toppling over the couch every time trying to lean closer to the screen. She’s good at remembering dialogue as well and recites all the good lines after the movie is over. Doing impressions of actors is one of the things she enjoys and when, in a burst of confidence, she mimics Vision, Steve has to laugh at how incredibly accurate it is.

They go out for dinner. There’s a cozy little diner called _Jane’s Fountain_ that Darcy loves, not just because it reminds her of Jane Foster but also because the food they serve is something else altogether. There, a list is drawn of the places they absolutely have to visit.

“We have one full day before I start at the Oahu Retirement Home,” announces Darcy. “That means 24 hours of freedom to do whatever we want and go wherever we want.”

Steve nods and bites into his burger, doing an impressive job of not showing how happy he is that she wants to spend more time with him.

“You’ve been to Pearl City?” Darcy asks.

“Mmm hmm, yeah. This burger is really good.”

“I know, I know. Don’t interrupt,” she mumbles, crossing something off her list and making him smile. “Sea Life Park, check. Pearl Harbor Historic Sites, check. Jane’s Fountain, check. Okay, so tomorrow, we’re going to Kualoa Ranch. D’you know, it’s where Jurassic Park was shot. It’s green and goes on for miles and it’s totally scenic. You’ll love it there.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

It seems, though, that luck is not on their side because the next morning Steve wakes up to the sound of heavy rain pounding on his bedroom window. He carefully opens the balcony door and steps as far as he can without getting drenched. The door to Darcy’s lodge is open and she’s standing on the threshold, staring miserably at the rain. She looks up when Steve’s calls her name.

“Forget it,” comes her muffled response. “I’m going back to sleep.”

Utterly disappointed, Steve walks back to his bed and flops face down on the sheets. It’s going to be the longest day ever. He had been looking forward to go out with Darcy so much that he doesn’t feel like doing anything else that day. He mostly stays in his room, playing with the stress ball Wanda gave him and cutting off Santa’s face from the underwear Bucky gave him. The full-of-holes underwear is then folded neatly and placed back into his suitcase, which he still hasn’t unpacked. He probably isn’t going to.

He spends some time in the balcony as well, hoping to catch another glimpse of Darcy, but she doesn’t come out.

Halfway through his pity party, Natasha calls. “You go away. You don’t call. You don’t write.”

“I messaged you yesterday.”

He can see her in his mind’s eye, rolling her eyes in a way that only she can. “You sent me a photograph of a diner.”

“It was a good diner,” he teases.

“Don’t sass me, Rogers. What have you been up to? Give me a detailed report.”

“There’s nothing to report. I’m a tourist. I do touristy things.”

“Tourist, my ass! Barnes tells me you’re seeing some girl.”

Steve sighs. So that’s what this is about. “I thought you called to ask after me.”

“I _am_ asking after you.”

Steve scoffs. “You just want to gossip about Darcy.”

“Ooooh,” Natasha says suggestively. “Darcy, eh? Tell me about her.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“If I do, you’re going to check her out and you’re going to like what you find on her and then you’ll try to put thoughts into my head.”

“Seems like you know enough about her to assume I’m going to like her.”

“You like everyone on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s record,” Steve accuses without thinking.

“Aaaah. So, she’s on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s record.”

 _Shit_. Steve bites his tongue, cursing himself internally. He knows he’s no match for Natasha’s subtle manipulations, so he grumbles, “Never mind that.”

She laughs. “All right. At least tell me what she’s like.” At his stubborn silence, she presses, “Come on, Steve, you gotta give me something. Sam is dying to know more.”

Steve rolls his eyes. His friends are asshats in the true sense of the word. Well, he can be one, too.

“She’s really friendly and all the seals love her,” he starts.

“Huh?”

“And she has no furniture in her house.”

“Oookay.”

“She doesn’t take well to people stealing her iPod.”

“What…?”

“She eats crumbs from the kitchen counter. Horror movies terrify her. Her favorite movie is _The Sound of Music_.” He doesn’t realize when his plan backfires and Natasha falls silent as his mouth runs away from him. “She’s got a travel bucket list for places she wants to go before she dies. She looks small and delicate but can lift my shield. She does hilarious impressions of people… and God, Natasha, she’s so unbelievably beautiful that I can barely tear my gaze away—”

He stops abruptly, eyes wide. Did he just say all that? To Natasha, no less. Damn, he has no sense of self-preservation.

“It doesn’t look like you need anyone to put thoughts in your head,” Natasha says after a while. “How long have you been spending time with her?”

“Less than two days,” Steve replies warily, knowing how his answer would sound to the redhead.

“Not even two days.” Natasha sounds impressed. “She must be quite a woman if she was able to make you fall for her in just two days.”

His heart skips a beat. Even _he_ has no idea how it’s possible to fall for someone so hard so quickly. Steve has never felt this fascinated and giddy about anyone before, so the blame lies completely on Darcy’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he croaks finally. “She’s special.”

Natasha is silent. “I see,” is all she says. When he attempts to divert the topic, she lets him and they talk about the weather in New York, about Thor and Scott’s mission to decorate the entire facility by Christmas, about Bucky’s growing excitement for his new arm and Tony’s most recent blunder in the labs. It’s a normal conversation and Natasha doesn’t bring Darcy up again, for which Steve is grateful. She hangs up soon after and he is debating what he should make for lunch when the doorbell rings.

Outside, heavy raindrops still pound a dull rhythm on his window. No one ever visits him and no one would _want_ to visit anyone in such weather. Therefore, there’s only one person who would be ringing the doorbell.

“Hey,” Darcy says when he opens the front door. “I’m hungry. You making something?”

It’s almost scary the way his heart jumps at the sight of her. Dressed in a partially soaked sundress, holding on to an umbrella with one mangled metal limb, Darcy looks a bit sheepish but smiles prettily up at him when he steps aside to let her in. Now that he has admitted to himself ( _and_ Natasha) that Darcy is special, his senses are a lot more aware of her. Like, his eyes follow the course of a few rain drops sliding down her bare arm; his nose picks up a faint flowery smell that he had somehow missed before; his ears are tuned to the smallest and lightest of her exhales; and his skin tingles all over when she brushes past him, goosebumps rising on his arm.

She drops the umbrella by the door and raids the storage cupboard for a shawl before turning to him with a twinkle in her eye. “So, what are we making? Mashed potatoes, roast turkey… gingerbread cookies?”

Steve can’t help but laugh. “It’s not Christmas yet.”

She shrugs, wrapping the shawl snug around herself. “We should celebrate Christmas while I’m free. I’ll be working on the 25th, probably making merry with retired oldies, and I don’t want you to be alone on Christmas day.”

“I’ll be fine,” Steve says indifferently, although he _is_ a little disappointed by the news. He makes his way to the kitchen and Darcy follows him. “What happened to your umbrella?”

“One of the seals used it as a chew toy. Don’t change the topic,” she reprimands gently. “Do you want to make merry tonight?”

The way she says it makes Steve chuckle. His mind unhelpfully supplies that making merry also includes singing, dancing and drinking. He doesn’t think he’s going to be doing any of that with Darcy, although dancing with her wouldn’t be so bad. “We can make merry on Christmas,” he says calmly. “I’m sure they’ll let you off a little early if you asked.”

While she considers his idea, Steve sets about making spaghetti. He’s never made it before but he remembers Vision making it once. It had turned out fairly delicious, so he’s going to put Vision’s recipe to good use. Darcy stands beside him while he cooks, her expression contemplative, and Steve wonders if she’s still stuck on the topic of making merry or has moved on to thinking about something else.

“Do you want to go to the light show on the beach tonight?” she asks abruptly.

Steve glances at her. She looks too hopeful to refuse but he shakes his head. “Let’s not make any plans in advance. If it continues to rain, you’ll be upset.”

“I know, I know, but oh Steve!” One of her hands shoots out of the shawl to grip his arm. “It’s the most magical thing I’ve ever—woah, you’re hot!”

Steve starts and looks down at her. She seems very awed as her fingers rub distractingly on his skin. Steve gulps. “It’s the serum,” he tries to explain as steadily as he can. “It increases my metabolism and causes my body give off heat.”

“Just like me,” she whispers, more to herself than to him. “Not the increased metabolism but…”

Her hand is still rubbing circles on his skin and his heart literally stops beating when she steps closer and bundles his arm under the shawl, hugging it to her body like a pillow. The spatula in his other hand clatters against the stove as his body shivers and reacts to her proximity. “Mmm, this feels so good,” Darcy moans, unaware of the effect she’s having on him. She rests her forehead on his shoulder and nuzzles her nose on his sleeve. “God, you’re so hot, Steve.”

“So are you,” he chokes out, feeling delicious heat curling around his arm.

There’s something to be said for two people telling each other they’re hot not in the way others usually mean when they utter the same words. Steve tries his very best to not burn the spaghetti with Darcy attached to him in such a way. It takes all his control not to wind his arm around her waist and pull her to his front so that he can hug her and bury himself under the shawl with her. The urge to do that and more is frustratingly strong and Steve has to curl his fingers into a fist and grit his teeth until the urge passes.

It doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Darcy mumbles, squeezing his arm reflexively before stepping back. Her face is flushed and he feels sad and empty at the distance. “That was selfish and intrusive and…”

“It felt nice,” Steve interjects softly.

A slow smile spreads across her lips and she ducks her head. They don’t talk much after that. Once the spaghetti is ready, Steve dumps a dollop in each of their bowls and they eat in silence, occasionally breaking into small bouts of conversation. Darcy tells him she can’t get over how well he can cook and he takes that opportunity to invite her to meals every day. She looks pleased by his offer and nods enthusiastically.

He hates saying goodbye to her at night when she goes back to the servant’s lodge holding a broken umbrella over her head. It’s cold without her there. It rains throughout the night and while the day has been typically warm and sunny, at night it gets a bit cold. Steve tucks himself comfortably under the covers and slips his hands inside the t-shirt he’s wearing to rest them on his bare stomach. He means to warm his hands but it’s not the same as touching Darcy. His body temperature feels disappointingly normal to him. He’s always known he can’t feel his own heat like others around him can but he has also never missed anyone’s warmth like he misses Darcy’s in that moment.

 

He’s coming back from his jog when he sees Darcy on her way out. She doesn’t stop to greet him, her pace brisk as she calls over her shoulder, “My first day with the oldies. Wish me luck!”

“Luck.” Steve waves, coming to a stop in the middle of the road to look after her. She doesn’t look back, dark hair bouncing around her shoulders as she turns a corner and disappears.

Steve can’t wait for the day to be over so that he can be with her again. He decides he’s going to make lasagna for dinner.

 

She doesn’t come for dinner. Steve waits and waits until finally, he eats the lasagna alone and goes to bed, resolving to ask after her the next day.

But he doesn’t see her the next day either. Or the day after that.

He has started spying from the balcony again. She must come home really, really late because once he waits up till midnight and she’s still not returned. He’s getting worried about her. Working so many hours isn’t good for health. Plus, he really misses her.

 

It’s raining and he has fallen asleep in the balcony again. His ears, ever aware of Darcy’s voice even when he’s sleeping, pick up a muffled feminine shriek and he shoots right up.

“Darcy!” he breathes, looking around frantically before catching sight of her huddled by the jeep fiddling with something.

She’s unsheltered and completely drenched.

Steve doesn’t waste a single second in going to her aid. He dashes down the stairs, grabs an umbrella from the storage cupboard and is out of the door in less than a minute.

Darcy looks surprised and relieved to see him. “Hey,” she says, smiling tremulously when he holds the umbrella over her head. Hers is in her hand, more mangled than before and completely useless.

“What happened?” Steve asks urgently as she tugs unsuccessfully at the damaged limb.

“It got caught in a tree. I can’t fix it.” She sounds pitiful and frustrated and her voice hitches hoarsely when she whispers, “Please, take me home.”

She refuses to look at him but he can see that her eyes are red and that it’s probably not just rain water streaming down her face. His heart sinks a little at her distress and a tiny strand of anger stems from it, coiling itself tight around his insides, the intensity of the emotion directed entirely at the people from her work place. Not caring how wet she is, he winds an arm around her shoulder and pulls her to him, determinedly walking them to the villa. Confused, Darcy tries to steer them to the servant’s lodge but Steve shakes his head.

“Steve.”

“No.”

The firmness in his voice brooks no further argument and Darcy doesn’t utter another word as he takes her to the villa and upstairs into his bedroom. She stands awkwardly by the door while he rummages in his bag for a spare towel, sweatpants and t-shirt. He doesn’t give them to her, though, instead places them on the bed and walks over to stand before her. He means to ask her if she’s okay, if she wants something to eat, if he can help in any other way, but as he stares down at her red-rimmed eyes, at dark hair plastered to her pale face and at the slight tremble of her bottom lip, he forgoes words in favor of action and gathers her in a hug.

She’s soft and pliant in his embrace, and burning hot despite being soaked to the bone. He knows it’s wrong to feel what’s he’s feeling at the moment but he can’t help the sparks shooting up and down his spine as her fingers curl into his shirt and she sniffs lowly, wiping her leaking eyes on the already damp fabric. He pulls her in tighter.

“I’m so tired, Steve,” Darcy whispers thickly.

“Shh, I know,” he soothes, rubbing his hands down her back. He’s going to have a word with her employers. How dare they work her to the point of such exhaustion? If giving back to the community includes late hours and wearing one out, then he doesn’t want Darcy doing that. He knows he’s being hypocritical, but who the hell comes home feeling like this after working at a retirement home no less?

Darcy mumbles something about burning eyes and weak limbs and Steve pulls back to study her worriedly. “Fever?”

“Hmm… maybe.” She wipes her eyes and tries to give him a brave smile that will not fool anyone. “I’ll be fine. Let me just dry up and change.” Her eyes flicker to the wet patches on his shirt. “Sorry about that.”

Steve dismisses her apology. “You want something to eat?” he asks. “Soup, maybe?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“But…”

“Stay here,” she implores. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

He nods and watches her take the towel and clothes and disappear into his bathroom. Once the door shuts behind her, he opens his bag again. It doesn’t take him more than a minute to strip off his wet clothes and throw something else on. Restlessness creeps into his bones as he paces back and forth, wondering what else he can do, how he can make Darcy feel better. He can’t just sit around and do nothing while she suffers from possible fever. Maybe Sam has some home remedy.

He throws himself on the bed and snatches his phone from the pillow, fingers already flying over the keypad. It completely skips him that New York is hours ahead of Hawaii and that Sam would be sleeping. If it had struck him, he would have messaged Bucky instead. Bucky barely sleeps three hours a day, a terrible routine but Steve is slowly helping him fix it.

He’s cursing Sam for not being quick with his reply when Darcy steps out of the bathroom. Her hair is piled atop her head, wrapped in the towel, and Steve’s clothes practically engulf her petite frame, making her look smaller than she already is.

“Hey,” she says shyly and his insides flutter. She’s not crying anymore but her eyes are droopy and her spine curved as if she can’t hold herself up any longer. “What are you doing?” she asks, making her way over and climbing in beside him.

“Um… just looking for ways to help you.” He looks down at his phone again. No new messages. To hell with Sam! Steve will give him a piece of his mind later.

“Oh,” she says, fidgeting nervously.

She looks different in his clothes. Comfortable, domestic and utterly beautiful. If he doesn’t figure something else out soon, he’s just going to keep staring at her. And that wouldn’t help in the least.

“You could hold me for a while,” she suggests hopefully. “Some warmth will be nice.”

Steve gulps. “Okay, yeah. I can do that.”

They huddle against the headboard with a blanket draped snugly over their bodies. Steve tentatively places his arm around Darcy’s shoulders and she cuddles up to him immediately, resting her cheek over his collarbone and sighing contently. The towel wrapped around her hair rubs against his chin.

The comfortable silence they’re entertaining is broken by Darcy. “It’s not always like this, you know.”

“Like what?” Steve asks, rubbing warmth up and down her arm.

“I handle a lot of things. Cleaning, nursing, reading to them, taking care of their meds… and it’s tiring,” she admits softly. “But I like it. I enjoy doing what I do.”

Steve clenches his jaw and remains silent. Darcy continues, “It’s just that Christmas is coming up and the managing team has decided to throw a party and surprise the residents with small, simple presents. So, that’s what I’m busy with, the preparations and gift wrapping and other things…”

“Are you going to get a day off?”

“Probably not.”

“A present?”

She falters. “I… don’t know.”

“Right.”

“I’m on the organizing committee.”

“Ah, that explains it then.”

She can sense the coldness in his voice and her speech about maintaining a party budget and utilizing only a certain amount of the organization’s donations falls flat as a valid explanation. She pulls back to look at him, to give him big innocent eyes, but Steve carefully arranges his face to give nothing away. His mind is made up. Whatever excuse she gives, he’s doing something about her dilemma whether she likes it or not.

He hears her sigh in resignation and lean into him again, a dainty finger coming up to trace circles on his chest, just over where his heart is. The organ automatically starts pumping faster, tied as it is to Darcy’s proximity and her movements. Keeping his breathing steady has never been so hard.

She speaks again. It’s almost inaudible but Steve catches it.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything, merely rests his head against the headboard and stares into the darkness, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly. This is the closest he’s ever come to feeling complete. The only other time he had felt something similar was when his mother had taken him and Bucky to Coney Island. They had splurged their little sack of savings on junk food and thrill rides and had laughed their heads off after a woman had pushed Bucky out of the way to be the first in line. Steve had gone home green and sick, but the trip had been worth it.

The feeling of contentment and absolute, unparalleled happiness that he had experienced then is what he’s experiencing right now as well, with Darcy snuggled up to him, letting him take care of her. His fingers reflexively tighten around her shoulder and he looks down to find that she has fallen asleep.

Oh. Well, he will hold her for some time and then shift to another room. He’s not that sleepy. He can sit for a while.

 

It’s still dark when Steve wakes with a start. For a few moments, he feels disoriented… until his fingers twitch and dig into soft flesh and he realizes with a jolt that the warm weight on top of him is Darcy. They have somehow reclined into a horizontal position during the night and she ended up with her head on his chest and her arm thrown loosely over his midriff. The towel she was wearing is nowhere in sight and her dark hair is splayed over his shoulder and bicep, tangled and smelling of _his_ shampoo. He closes his eyes and memorizes the feel of her soft curves pressed so intimately against him, his hand sliding up from her waist to run through her hair and back down where the t-shirt she’s wearing has ridden up in her sleep. He tugs it back over her hips like the gentleman that he is, but not before his fingers are permanently marked by her skin.

She shifts in her sleep, letting out a hum of contentment and burrowing further into him, and Steve can’t make himself feel alarmed or guilty for falling asleep with Darcy in his arms. The tight little cocoon they’ve made on the bed is deliciously toasty due to the combined heat they’re giving off and feels so perfect, so _right_ , that Steve doesn’t want to move ever. It’s not an idea he can entertain for very long though, because he knows that this isn’t proper, what they’re doing. He tries to shift Darcy off him without jostling her too much but it’s a feat. He had been right in his assumption that she’s a strong little thing. Every time he moves, she holds on tighter. It’s a losing fight and Steve eventually gives up, throwing his free arm over his eyes and going back to sleep. They would deal with this situation in the morning.

 

The sound of curtains being pulled open and the sudden assault of sunlight on his eyelids make a small crease appear between his brows. Steve groans and turns his face to escape the bright light, his mind grappling vainly at the last vestiges of his pleasant dream. A giggle sounds from somewhere to his right and something soft presses to his cheek. Acting more on reflex than anything else, his hand shoots up to grab a wrist and his eyes reluctantly blink open to find Darcy’s face close to his.

She gasps and pulls away instantly. Fingers still gripping her wrist, Steve yawns and stares at her. “What are you doing?”

“N-nothing,” she replies too quickly. “We slept in. I’m late for work.”

His grip on her tightens as he sits up to shoot her an incredulous look, all the sleep vanishing from his system in an instant.

“Take the day off,” he orders. “You should be resting. You have a fever.”

“Not anymore.” When he keeps glaring at her, she insists, “I swear I feel better. Thanks to you.”

Steve ignores the red tinge on her cheeks when she says it and focuses on the more pressing issue. He’s happy that she feels better but they can’t be sure about the fever not returning and he doesn’t want her to toil after other people when she’s suffering from poor health herself.

He knows he can’t make her stay, so he does the next best thing. “Okay. I’m coming with you.”

She frowns. “To the retirement home?” Steve nods. “Why?”

“I want to see where you work,” he says casually. “And, if possible, show my appreciation to the people running this endeavor.”

Darcy narrows her eyes at him, totally unconvinced by his response. “Are you sure?” she deadpans. He nods seriously. “Well, all right then. I’m going to get ready. Meet you outside in ten.”

 

The Oahu Retirement Home is smaller than Steve expected. Darcy meant it when she said the place was run only on donations. The building is surrounded by trees and it’s near to the beach, so it must offer lovely views to the residents staying on the upper floors. But the building is old – its dull blue and orange paint is chipping, the letter ‘m’ from Home is missing, the lawn is in desperate need of mowing and a lone canopy swing, broken and covered in vines, lies at the edge of the trees. The interior is a bit better, albeit noisy. Everything is in sepia tones and Steve is sure his eyes are going to take some adjusting when he steps back out.

He silently follows Darcy down a long corridor that opens into a small waiting room with the reception desk. Beyond the room, Steve can see helpers like Darcy bustling about, he can hear the dull drone of conversation, the sweet melody of Frank Sinatra music and the occasional cheer from the residents of the home.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks curiously.

“Laughing exercise,” Darcy explains shortly. She waves to a couple of people who scurry past them.

“Darcy, you’re late.” Someone calls from the other room. Steve turns to look at the face of that drawling voice. It’s a young man not much younger than Steve. He’s wearing a bright orange shirt and a mocking expression. Steve dislikes him immediately.

“Hey, Todd,” says Darcy. “I was sick. Slept in. What did I miss?”

“The morning dusting routine,” drawls Todd. His eyes flicker briefly to Steve before zeroing in on Darcy. “Haunani filled in for you.”

“Great,” says Darcy, motioning for Steve to follow her. “I’ll take care of the morning meds. Bye, Todd.”

“The docs are on their way for the weekly checkup. You better hurry up, Darcy girl.”

Steve glares back at Todd, who’s already disappeared into the room he popped out of. It’s the same room where old people are laughing and cheering. How does Todd even fit into that space? Darcy chuckles at the expression on his face. “Ignore him. He’s like that with everyone. Acting boss, being a general scumbag.” She takes his hand when she fails to get his attention. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

She doesn’t follow up on her promise because she doesn’t have time. They pass by the kitchen, another room where some people are reading the newspaper, and a closed door with a chipped golden plaque that reads ‘Hanale Keo, Keeper’. Darcy says Hanale is their boss who prefers to be addressed by his first name and calls himself the ‘keeper of the retired’, hence his strange plaque. Steve files that information away for later.

He follows Darcy into a room filled with ladies who look up the moment Steve walks in. A couple of them are folding neatly laundered clothes, another is holding a mop, the fourth is balancing a tray of teacups and the one by the window is smoking. Darcy walks straight to the medicine cabinet while Steve falters at the estrogen in the room and mumbles an embarrassed, “Ladies.”

The women titter. “Who’s your tail, Darcy?”

Darcy looks up and grins absently, her fingers working meticulously to separate the medicine in small bowls. “That’s Steve.” She misses the hurt look he throws her at the impersonal introduction, her eyes going down a list of names, double checking if she missed anyone.

The ladies are still ogling him with interest and Steve knows there’s only one way he can handle the pressure. He doesn’t want to do it but he raises himself to his full height, clenches his jaw and says, “Captain Steve Rogers at your service.”

The reaction around the room is almost comical. The mop clatters to the floor, the cigarette fizzles out, the tray of teacups shakes violently and the clothes in need of folding are forgotten in favor of muffled gasps and more staring. Darcy, who glanced up at his words, looks dazed as well, as if she’s seeing him for the first time and can’t tear her eyes away. It’s flattering. He knows his entire aura changes when he’s Captain America. The Captain commands respect that the little Steve inside him never could. So he stands tall and regards the women in the room with a small smile.

“Need help with the cleaning?”

Later, he thinks it wasn’t a bad idea to offer his services to the ladies. They crowd him, wanting to shake his hand, to look into his eyes and tell him how proud they are of what he has done for the country, asking him why all men aren’t like him (he has no answer to that) and insisting they take photos with him. Steve wishes he had brought the Barbie. More people keep pouring into the room once the news spreads and for the first hour, all Steve does is shake hands and answer questions. Questions about why he’s in Hawaii, about the other Avengers, his work, his relationship status and even his trial. He answers all of them patiently until one of the nicer employees, Nani, orders everyone not to overwhelm him and shoos them away.

Darcy disappears halfway through Captain America’s enthusiastic welcome and after she’s gone, Steve inquires about how the place is run, where the donations come from, what are the work timings, if the old people like being there or not. He hears only good things about the home _and_ about their keeper, Hanale Keo. He finds out that the majority of the people working there are locals with the exception of Darcy, Todd and a couple of other employees. He also finds out that people there work in shifts and that Darcy is the only one who works full time because she needs the money.

“Is she paid overtime? Because she works fifteen to sixteen hours a day,” Steve tells Nani, who looks shocked.

“Sixteen hours? Are you sure?”

Steve nods solemnly. “The latest she came back once was midnight.”

“Are you serious?” she exclaims. “Boy, that’s not good.”

“Who looks after the employees? Is there a human resource manager I can talk to about this?”

Nani hesitates. “No. Hanale handles everything. Why don’t I take you to him?”

“I’d appreciate it.”

As they are walking out, the medicine cabinet catches Steve’s eye again. It’s made of rich oak wood and is the only thing in the room that stands out. It’s too ornate, too modern, too expensive to be in a place like this. He frowns and walks over to take a closer look at it. Nani waits for him, smiling knowingly as he checks over the cabinet.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? Darcy donated it two months ago.”

Steve pauses. “What?”

“Yeah, she gave away a closet, a table and two chairs as well. She’s very kind.”

Steve looks back at the cabinet and sure enough, at the top left hand corner are the words ‘Property of T. Stark’. They’re small and faded but Steve can read them all right. He sighs and rests his head against the wood in defeat. “Oh, Darcy.”

 

Darcy returns home at eight that night and Steve’s happiness knows no bounds. She marches straight into his room and demands, “Did you say something to Hanale about me?”

“Did you donate Tony’s furniture to the retirement home?” Steve counters.

The deer caught in headlights look is adorable on her. Steve watches, amused, as she fumbles and sputters defensively, “I was going to pay him back!”

“Darcy, it’s not your stuff to give away. Does Tony even know?”

“I was—am—going to pay him back,” she repeats forcefully. “Someday.”

Steve laughs and resists the urge to hug her. Tony probably isn’t going to care that his furniture from the servant’s house has been donated to an old age home. If anything, the man is going to be proud of Darcy. Still, watching a riled up Darcy is entertaining. Steve has never seen this side of her before.

“What did you say to Hanale?” Apparently, she’s not to be diverted so easily.

“Nothing. He was very welcoming.” It’s the truth. Hanale Keo is a good human being. “We talked about the army, world politics, the Accords… general stuff. You’d have been bored.”

They had talked about other things as well, like Darcy’s friendliness, her close bond with all the residents, her daily schedule and why she worked so hard and long when everyone else didn’t. Hanale argued it was her goal to make others happy but Steve told him that just because she was going to be there for a mere month didn’t mean she deserved any less attention and care. Hanale seemed to understand.

Steve doesn’t think telling her all this will work in his favor. Telling her that he had adopted his Captain America persona again (squared shoulders and clenched jaw) to inform her boss that he was very unhappy with the way Darcy’s schedule was being handled will not work in his favor either. So he merely smiles and says, “I didn’t stay long but I had fun. Thank you for taking me with you.”

 

The next day, he has a surprise for her. She’s kicked out of the retirement home at eight again and practically skips to the lodge only to find it bare.

“Where’s my stuff?”

“In the room next to mine,” Steve replies calmly, eyes fixed on the book he’s reading.

“What? Why?”

“You should stay in the villa, not in some measly servant’s lodge. I can’t believe Tony didn’t tell you anything about it before.”

“He did tell me to stay here, but I’m not looking for comfort,” insists Darcy. “I’m here for an experience, not a luxury vacation.”

“Too bad. You’re staying here now.”

She stares at him. “Why are you doing this?”

Steve closes his book and looks up. He doesn’t say anything, merely holds her gaze for a long time until she flushes and looks away. He doesn’t have a reason for why he’s doing this except that he wants her to be happy and comfortable at all times and he’s so insanely attracted to her that he can’t bear the thought of her not being around him anymore. Each day, it gets more and more difficult to hide his feelings from her.

Maybe she can see it in his eyes, maybe not, but she doesn’t argue and starting that day, Darcy moves in with him.

 

They set a routine that’s agreeable to both of them. Because Steve doesn’t like it when she leaves without seeing him, she waits until he comes back from his jog so that they can have breakfast together. In return, Steve lets her pick the movies on movie night (which is every day) and he doesn’t say anything when some nights, she comes home at nine instead of eight. It’s still a vast improvement from before and he understands she’s busy preparing for the Christmas party.

She’s always griping to him about the outfit she has to wear for the party. Steve hasn’t seen it but he doesn’t understand the problem. Darcy looks good in everything. She can wear a burlap sack and he will still want to kiss her. It also really upsets her that they won’t be having turkey at the party.

“A. It’s expensive, because there are a lot of us,” she tells Steve miserably. “B. Most of the residents are on a strict diet. Some have high cholesterol, some are advised against eating non-vegetarian food and the remaining ones don’t really care about having turkey when they have more important things to worry about, like a heart attack or a slow, painful death.”

When Steve narrates Darcy’s words to Tiko, the dolphin grunts, spits water at him and dives back into the pool angrily. It’s only when Steve apologizes for not being able to visit for the past few days that Tiko reluctantly swims back up to listen to him. He isn’t much help. He _does_ make a lot of clucking sounds though. So, Steve goes to his other friend because he needs a second opinion.

The lady manning the ice cream cart mumbles a string of Hawaiian words (at least five of them sound like curse words to him) and shakes her head irritably. “Old people are stupid,” she says. Steve refrains from pointing out that she’s old too. “Tell your friend not to worry, my dear. I’ll get you a turkey for Christmas. I make it for my family every year. Roasting one more won’t kill me.”

Steve thanks her and decides to not tell Darcy about it just yet. He doesn’t want to get her hopes up in case the plan is a bust. She’s so busy attending to her issues and worrying about the 25th that she doesn’t even suspect that Steve could be planning something. As the day nears, she looks more and more exhausted and sometimes downright sullen. She plays with her food, falls asleep during movies and Steve can hear her banging her head against their adjoining wall at night.

On the 24th, a day before the not-so-grand event, she follows him to his room after dinner and proceeds to wiggle into his side until he gets the hint and holds her. She’s never this bold with him. Despite living in the same house, they have maintained certain boundaries. By now, Steve is certain that Darcy wants him too. She never holds his gaze anymore, doesn’t sit close to him during movies, watches him when she thinks he’s not looking and whenever he touches her, she gasps and goes bright red. It’s funny, not to mention highly arousing, to see her restrain herself around him so much. Considering her honest and outgoing personality, he doesn’t understand what’s holding her back.

Steve, though. Steve has a reason for not making his move. He’s waiting for the Christmas party to be over, so that she can go back to being the old, stress-free Darcy again. He hasn’t seen that Darcy in more than a week and the moment she reappears, he’s going to ask her out.

They fall asleep in each other’s arms again and with Darcy by his side, Steve sleeps in _again_. Unlike last time, she doesn’t wake him up with a kiss. He opens his eyes to find that that he’s alone in the room and there’s a note on his bedside table.

_Sorry I had to leave. Too much to do. Pray everything goes well. <3_

Steve stares at the sideways heart for a long time before falling back on his pillow with a sigh. He didn’t even get to see her dress for the party. He lazes around in bed for a few more minutes before jumping up and hurrying to the bathroom. He has a lot to do as well.

 

He’s just placing the final dish on the table when he hears the click of the main door opening. He glances at the wall clock. 10 pm. He had expected as much. Darcy is grumbling as she walks in. “… swear I’m so hungry. I only had cake. Everything else was terribly bland and...”

She gasps at the sight before her, her eyes jumping from one spot to another as they take in the dim lighting, the Christmas tree in the corner adorned with multicolored decorations and the table set for two with a variety of delicacies, wine and an enormous roast turkey that sits in the middle. Her chin trembles and she looks completely overwhelmed but she manages to rein in her emotions, something that Steve is totally failing at.

Darcy isn’t the only one in shock. Steve’s eyes are wide as he gapes openly at her. When she had told him that she had to wear a traditional Hawaiian dress to the party, he hadn’t been able to connect the dots. Looking at her now, maybe he should have, for he is totally unprepared to handle this level of exquisite. She looks absolutely glorious in a fitted red crop top with no shoulder straps and an off-white knee length skirt that has the potential to fly up with one forceful turn of her body. Her hair flows down her back the way he likes it and a flower garland sits atop her head.

As she slowly moves closer, he notices other things, tiny details that he had missed at first glance. Like the faded pattern on her crop top, an oil stain on the skirt, a few wisps of dark hair sticking to the damp skin of her neck and, try as he might, he can’t tear his eyes from it.

She’s standing beside him now, looking at him with something akin to wonder and adoration, and he has to force himself to close his mouth and meet her gaze.

“You did all this?” she asks, removing the flowers from her head and placing them on the table.

 _Remember words_ , his brain tells him. _Alphabet, words, yes, no, up, down…_

“Well, I mean, I didn’t make the turkey,” he croaks, then clears his throat and tries again, “And the gingerbread cookies.”

She doesn’t care. She looks really happy. “This is great. But I didn’t get you anything.”

Steve pulls back a chair for her to sit. “Neither did I.”

She looks around at everything he has done. “But… this?”

“Eh, it’s nothing,” says Steve dismissively. “All in a day’s work for Captain America.”

It’s then that a wide smile spreads across her lips and she smacks him playfully. “You’re getting cockier.”

“I’ve always been cocky. I just hide it well.” He holds up his wine glass. “Shall we?”

She does the same. “We shall.”

They toast to a better new year “and world peace,” Steve adds solemnly, making Darcy giggle thinking of _Miss Congeniality_. She keeps up a constant stream of chatter, telling him about her day and everything that had happened at the party, while Steve mostly tries not to mistake his nose for his mouth as he eats. He’s still a bit unfocused and even her story about a bad incident at work (courtesy of scumbag-Todd) doesn’t help divert his thoughts down less sinful paths.

Sometime later, Darcy falls silent and looks intently at her empty plate.

“More?” Steve asks her, even though he’s fairly certain that’s not what she’s thinking.

“Thank you. For… for all this,” Darcy says softly. “I’m really glad you’re here. In Hawaii. With me.”

The sincerity in her eyes floors him. He shares her sentiment so deeply that he has no better words to add. He opens his mouth, closes it and merely nods. She smiles and gathers their dishes to place in the dishwasher. Steve mimics her, passing her the wine bottle and the tray of gingerbread cookies to put away. His eyes follow her even as he clears the table, practicing various forms of the phrase ‘will you be my girl?’ in his head. Do people still say it like that, he wonders as he passes Darcy the leftover mashed potatoes, their movements in sync with each other.

He’s still watching her thoughtfully when she opens the refrigerator door and bends down to place the bowl of mashed potatoes inside. He likes the way her hair slides down over one shoulder revealing a smooth patch of creamy skin and—

“Oh!”

She straightens at his soft exclamation and shoots him a bemused look. Steve stares at her in surprise. It was a brief glimpse but he’s certain he saw something on the nape of her neck, a familiar shape with bright colors…

He follows her back to the table and stands behind her, trying to catch sight of the thing again. Darcy pauses in what she’s doing to look over her shoulder in amusement.

“What are you doing?”

“What’s that on your nape?”

She starts and drops the fork. “What? No-nothing.”

Now he’s sure that it’s not nothing. Something’s definitely there and she doesn’t want him to see it. She tries to slip past him but his arm blocks her path, fingers closing around the top of the chair to keep her from scurrying away. She attempts to turn around but he steps in closer foiling that plan as well.

“Steve,” she pleads.

“What is it?” he whispers curiously. “What are you hiding from me?”

She drops her face into her hands and the long mane of hair shifts and slides, tempting him to run his fingers through it, brush it aside so he can press his lips to the soft skin below her ear. His heart starts racing and he asks her again, “What is it?”

“It’s just… just a stupid thing that I did,” Darcy replies, her voice sounding strained. “You don’t have to… I can… I… aah, shit!”

“Let me see,” Steve murmurs, raising a hand to touch her shoulder.

She shivers and falls silent, letting him push aside her hair with light fingers, letting him discover the secret that she has been keeping from him for the past two days. Steve sucks in a breath when he sees it. It’s a tattoo, round in shape, barely half an inch in diameter and swathed in his favorite colors. It’s the miniature version of—

“My shield,” he breathes, tracing his index finger over it in awe. Darcy shivers again and looks at him from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his reaction. He’s in no condition to give her one as he stares, absolutely mesmerized, at the slightly raised skin on her nape where the tattoo sits. It’s just his shield and he has seen it a million times, but on her, somehow, it looks stunning. Maybe it’s because the colors against her skin make a great combination or maybe it’s because the primal, territorial part of him is pleased that she marked herself with his signature, branding her his.

“Say something,” Darcy whispers.

His mouth has gone dry and he feels almost spellbound by her tattoo, finding it difficult to not just keep looking at it. Darcy mistakes his silence for displeasure or anger and quickly tries to diffuse the situation. “I’m sorry. I can get it removed.”

“No,” Steve says hoarsely. “Keep it.”

He touches it again because he can’t help himself, and on an impulse, leans forward to press his lips to the raised area of her skin. Darcy gasps and jerks against him, causing a few wisps of hair to slide over and obstruct his view. He brushes them aside, holding her hair to one side so that he can nuzzle his nose against her skin. The smell of her is intoxicating, a strange and wonderful mix of flowers, chocolate cake and something that is distinctly Darcy.

“Keep it,” he repeats, pressing another kiss to her tattoo. “Keep it.”

“Okay,” she breathes. “I’ll keep it.”

Steve nods and removes the arm blocking her path. He means to stop, to step back and ask her from where and when she got it, but his body betrays him and stays in place even as his gaze travels over the goosebumps marring her skin. Liquid heat coils low in his belly at the sight. They’re beautiful. _She_ is beautiful. He doesn’t think he has ever told her that but she deserves to know. Maybe if he let his instincts take over, he will know how to get the words out. Right now, it feels right to skim his palm over her shoulder. So he does it.

Darcy doesn’t say anything. She stands quite still, her head half turned in his direction, waiting…

He moves almost unconsciously, drunk in his movements, as he presses his mouth to the curve of her neck in a soft kiss. Her skin sears against his and he can feel her pulse jump and skitter beneath his lips. His hand finds its way to her waist, sliding across the naked patch of skin between her skirt and bodice to pull her back against him. He delights in her soft exhale, in the way her stomach sucks in when he touches her there and how her hand comes up to rest over his, thumb curving around his wrist.

“Darce,” he murmurs, nipping her lightly.

She whimpers and drops her head back on his shoulder. Steve groans. If she doesn’t push him away, he isn’t going to be able to stop. He’s been holding back for so long, his resolve all but broke at her first gasp. For him, there’s no going back. For her, there’s still a chance.

In a swift movement, he turns her in his arms so that he can look at her, determine her thoughts if he can. She stares back at him, eyes wide and dilated, chest heaving and lips parted in invitation. A shudder runs down his spine at the unguarded desire in her eyes and he thinks, _to hell with it_ , before reeling her in for a searing kiss. Darcy twines her arms around his shoulders and practically molds herself to his front, kissing him with equal fervor. Steve sinks one hand into her hair to rest over his shield and wraps the other around her waist, holding her close. She’s soft, _so_ soft against the hard ridges of his body and she fits perfectly into him, just like he had always assumed. It’s a no-brainer. She’s made just for him.

“Steve,” pants Darcy, breaking away.

“Hmm?” He tugs her head back to press his mouth to her throat and she moans long and low, her fingers in his hair curling into fists.

“Bedroom,” she gasps.

He pauses in his ministrations to look at her. The slight inflection in her voice implies a question mark at the end and Steve yet again wonders how he’s so lucky to have found her. Cupping her face with both his hands, he brushes his lips over hers and murmurs, “Yes.”

“Yes?” The hope in her eyes is dizzying.

“Yes.”

She sighs and hugs him when he picks her up and takes her to his room. It seems a little far with Darcy sucking tiny kisses all over his neck, slowing his pace significantly.

“We forgot to cover the turkey,” she informs him in mock-seriousness.

Steve steps into his room, kicks the door shut and just about flies to the bed, laying her down on it. “I’m glad we have our priorities sorted,” he huffs, pausing to pull off his henley before sinking down on her and muffling her giggles with a kiss.

There isn’t much talking after that. Steve tries to be gentle with her, he really does, but he’s not entirely sorry for the state of her dress, which lies shredded on the bedroom floor. The skirt can still be mended but the crop top is dead forever. Darcy gets really turned on when he rips her clothes in impatience but that’s about the only violence he demonstrates during their tryst. He has her now, so he wants to take his time with her, kiss her all over, treat her like she deserves to be treated. Judging by the way her palms skim over his body and the reverent way in which she kisses him, he thinks she must feel the same way about him.

It makes his heart swell several sizes. “You’re breathtaking,” he tells her after she comes down from her second high. Her eyes flutter open and she lets out a breathy laugh, weaving her fingers through his hair and pulling him up for a sloppy kiss.

“So are you.” Her voice is rough and scratchy. He thinks about how it got that way and can’t say that he’s apologetic about it. He feels pretty darned proud of himself too and doubles his efforts to make her scream until she’s practically sobbing his name and it’s then, only then, that he positions himself over her and slides in home.

They never go back to cover the turkey.

 

Next morning, Darcy wakes him up by draping herself over his body and moaning adorably. “Mmm, I don’t want to leave.”

He sleepily wraps an arm around her waist. “Then, don’t.”

“But I have work.”

Steve opens his eyes and gives her a groggy smile. She looks magnificent without clothes on. “Call in sick. Tell them you have the flu.”

She whines and buries her face in his shoulder. “You’re no help.”

Steve laughs. “What do you want me to do?”

“Slow down time?” she suggests hopefully.

“Sure, let me just get my time turner.”

Darcy raises her head to glare at him. He chuckles and pulls her down for a kiss. He had briefly entertained the fear that things would be awkward between them in the morning. He’s immensely happy and relieved that’s not the case.

Darcy melts into him for a few amazing seconds before declaring that if she doesn’t get up now, she will never leave. Steve tugs her back in for a final kiss before watching her jump down from the bed and dash out of the door. The bed is warm from her body heat and the scent of her lingers on his pillow. Steve burrows his face into it and pretends she’s still there.

Man, he’s got it so bad for her. He has a hard time believing last night. Now that she’s gone, he questions it even happened. Everything seems surreal, as if it’s a dream and he’s going to wake up any moment.

He tells her that when she comes home that night. She gets a little quiet and sad at his words and pulls him down for a desperate kiss. Steve doesn’t understand why she’s upset but he kisses her back, gathering her close to his body and carrying her to his room.

She doesn’t seem to be in the mood to sleep at all. She wants to talk, an activity that Steve doesn’t mind at all. Darcy is smart and funny; she can keep anyone engaged for hours. Steve is no exception. They talk about anything and everything. He finds himself telling her things he hasn’t told anyone before, not even Bucky. And Darcy probably does the same because some things, she makes him promise he’s to never repeat to anyone. Steve crosses his heart and hopes to die. Darcy laughs and tackles him to the bed, holding his hands above his head as she proceeds to completely wreck him for all other women.

 

“What’s this?”

Steve looks up from his StarkPhone to see Darcy standing over his suitcase, a shirt in one hand and a tall pink box in another.

“Why do you have a Barbie doll in your bag?” she sniggers.

Steve’s first reaction is to make a sarcastic quip, then his brain catches up to him and he cries, “Oh, shit!”

“What? What is it?” Darcy asks in alarm when he scrambles over to snatch the box from her hands.

“This is Scott’s doll. I was supposed to send it on the 23rd so that it would reach New York by Christmas.” Steve groans loudly and bashes his forehead against the box. “Scott’s going to kill me.”

Darcy is confused. “He didn’t give you a reminder call about it?”

Steve hesitates. “Well, I mean he thanked me when I emailed him all the photos.” If possible, Darcy gets more confused. “But he didn’t remind me to mail the doll. Maybe he forgot, too.”

“You lost me at photos,” says Darcy. “You mean photos of the Barbie? Do you both have some weird kink going on that I don’t know about?”

Steve sighs and narrates to her the exciting story of the traveling Christmas Barbie. She laughs at the end of it. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We would have gone places and taken more photos, made her execute all kinds of terrible poses.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Laugh it up. I’m going to pack this to send it off first thing tomorrow morning.”

Darcy grins and kisses his chin. “I think it’s really sweet what you’re doing for Cassie. I’m sure she’ll be very happy with her present.”

Steve grumbles but stands a little taller at her praise.

 

When Darcy asks him to stay up for the third night in a row, after they have had dinner and watched _The Sound of Music_ again, Steve gets worried. Granted, they have fun talking and fornicating all night but not getting any sleep is taking its toll on both of them, Darcy more than Steve. She’s got bags under her eyes, her appetite seems to have reduced and her productivity at work suffers. By now, Steve knows her enough to know that she will not tell him what’s bothering her if he asks her directly and out of the blue. So he decides he’ll have to work up to it.

“How do I look?”

She’s wearing his shirt, Sam’s mismatched socks, Natasha’s (technically his) sunglasses and is holding a ridiculous pose with one hand on her hip and another in the air above her head clutching Wanda’s stress ball.

“Very classy,” Steve deadpans.

“Shut up,” declares Darcy, maintaining her pose. “Take a photo and send it to Natasha Romanoff to get her off your back.”

“She’s not on my back anymore.”

She frowns and straightens. “But you told me she keeps forcing you to ask out strange women…”

Steve shakes his head. “Not since I told her about you.”

Darcy looks surprised by his admission and jumps up on the bed to sit opposite him, watching him with open interest. She still manages to make his heart race whenever she looks at him like that. Will he ever get used to her?

“You told your friends about me?”

“Yeah. They’ve known from the start.”

“Really?” Her voice is small and conveys mild disbelief.

Steve smiles and pulls her in his lap. “C’mere.” He removes the sunglasses from her face and tosses the stress ball aside. She’s sitting sideways over his loosely crossed legs and he wraps his arm around her shoulders and dips her back as he kisses her soundly.

She blinks dazedly when he pulls back. “What was that for?” she asks, adding quickly, “Not that I’m complaining. You can fondle and ravish me all you want.”

Steve bites back a smile and it makes the corner of her lips tick up mischievously. She has absolutely no idea what she does to him, how she makes him feel, with her big blue eyes that are always stealing glances at him, full red lips that utter the most sinful and arousing sounds when he pleasures her, long dark hair that he never tires playing with, soft smooth skin that burns hot and trembles at his touch, and her heart that is so full of kindness and cheer that it still amazes him she’s a real person and not just some apparition he has conjured up in his loneliness.

He thinks if he lets himself, he can fall in love with her. Maybe he’s already halfway there.

He leans down to press his lips to her temple. “You know,” he begins, dragging his mouth to the corner of her eyes. “When I first told Bucky about you, he couldn’t comprehend why I wanted to be with you when I didn’t even know you.” He nibbles on her nose, making her giggle. “Of course he didn’t know how gorgeous you are.”

“You wanted to be with me before you came to the lodge that day?” Darcy asks, amazed.

Steve hums in agreement, mouth still on her skin, brushing lazy kisses over the smooth curve of her cheek. “I guess I’ve wanted you since the day I met you,” he admits, moving down to mouth at her jaw. She sucks in a sharp breath when he pops the first two buttons of the shirt ( _his_ shirt) she’s wearing. “You know that feeling when you meet someone and your body lights up and your instincts tell you that’s the right person for you even when your brain counters that you don’t know that person?”

Darcy doesn’t seem to be in any condition to reply. She mumbles something incoherent and arches into his touch as he worships her face with his lips and slowly works open her shirt. Her wide eyes, rapt with attention a moment ago, begin to flutter and darken under his ministrations.

“I felt that with you,” murmurs Steve, his mouth hovering over hers just shy of touching. “I just didn’t realize it at the time.”

She tips her face up to catch his lips but he pulls away a little, making her whine. He isn’t done yet.

“I realized it after we started talking and I started getting to know you more.” He flicks at the last button and the fabric falls open, baring her to his gaze. She looks completely wrecked. Her face is flushed from his kisses and her eyes blink uncomprehendingly at him. She is honestly the best-looking dame he’s ever met.

He’s beginning to forget the point of telling her all this with Darcy half-bare and willing in his arms. He wants to press her into the mattress and map her entire body with his mouth and hands until all he can feel is her and all she can feel is him and there’s nothing and no one else in the world except the two of them.

He sucks in a shaky breath and descends on her, closing his mouth over hers in a scorching kiss. To hell with words when he can show her what he feels with his body. His hand travels over her ribs, squeezing and tickling, until his fingers brush the underside of one full breast. Darcy squirms and wraps her arms around him, pulling him closer until he shifts and frees his legs from under her and lies down properly on top of her. They end up stretched out parallel to the headboard with Darcy’s head tipped back and her hair falling over the edge of the bed. Steve takes advantage of this position to latch onto the long column of her throat, pressing sucking kisses to the delicate skin there and slowly making his way down her body.

He takes his time with her, like he always does. There’s something about Darcy that makes him want to stop and smell the metaphorical roses. It also partially stems from the fear that he’s going to lose her. He can’t pinpoint where the fear originates from but it’s there and it slows him down because if he’s going to lose her then he’s damn well going to memorize every inch of her before that happens.

He’s become good at coaxing pleasure from her, making her ache for him, only sinking into her moaning, quivering form when she practically begs him to give her release.

He flops heavily beside her in the aftermath, pulling her into his warmth and angling her limp body away from him so that he can look at his shield on her nape. He presses a kiss there. He does it every time. Getting a tattoo is painful and yet Darcy had done it, he knows why but he still doesn’t fully understand it, so he lavishes that sensitive area with love whenever he can.

He remembers what he had been trying to say to her earlier before he got sidetracked. He meant to tell her how important she is to him, how happy she makes him, so much so that he would be considered a fool if he didn’t tell his friends about her. Darcy can never be his secret. Now that he has her, he wants to tell the whole world about her. He hopes she knows and understands all the things he wanted to say to her earlier but couldn’t.

He’s on the verge of dozing off when Darcy’s soft voice snaps him to attention.

“Come to Morocco with me.”

For a good five to six seconds, Steve is confused. Then, realization dawns. Her days in Hawaii are numbered, but she’s not going to New York with him like he had blindly assumed. She’s going to some other place, away from him. Her plan of going to Morocco had completely slipped his mind.

At his failure to reply, Darcy whispers his name in vain before assuming he’s fallen asleep and doing the same, hugging his arm tighter to her body. Steve doesn’t know what to say. He _wants_ to say yes but Bucky’s last text message haunts him. _Quit being a wuss and come home, pal. I can’t wait to punch you with my new arm_. The underlying message in his words is clear. His friends miss him and want him to return. He misses them too, more than he admits to himself.

But can he let Darcy go?

 

She doesn’t bring up the topic again, at least not for another two days. Steve is grateful. He’s driving himself crazy over this decision. It’s not hard. He wants Darcy. He wants to be with Darcy.

But it’s not that simple either. He’s been away from home for more than a month. He can’t stay away from his friends, from his work! The Avengers have been lucky with the total lack of threats for the past few months. But what if something comes up when he goes away on another five week long vacation? What if he isn’t able to make it back in time?

He understands Darcy’s dilemma now, of why she doesn’t want to waste time sleeping when they can spend every spare moment with each other. On one hand, they have their own lives and goals. On the other, there’s the very real concern that they’re going to be separated and not going to be able to find their way back to each other.

“What if she goes to Morocco and falls in love with someone else?”

Sam rolls his eyes at Steve’s panic. “Okay. A, there’s no guarantee of that happening even if you two stay together.” Steve glares at the laptop screen and Sam quickly adds, “But I’m sure she won’t. And b, you don’t have to be such a martyr about this. Sure we miss you at the facility but if you want to go with her, then go. It’s just five weeks, not a lifetime.”

“What if there’s a threat?”

“I’m sure we can handle a threat without one super soldier,” says Sam wryly. “There are nine of us here. Ten, if you include Rhodey coming back to join us.”

“What if there’s a dual threat?” insists Steve stubbornly.

“Then we’ll split into two groups.”

“What if—?”

“Steve, just go with her, okay, buddy? We’ll be fine.”

His face falls and he nods. “I’ll talk to Bucky and then decide.”

“Why?” Sam says immediately. “You _know_ what Bucky’s going to say. Why do you want to torture yourself? This is your decision, Steve. You can’t ask someone else to make it for you.”

“But Bucky…”

“Is not a child. He can live without you mothering him all the time.” Sam pauses and sighs, his face on the screen flickering as the connection wavers. “Look, Steve. This time away is good for you. Come back when you want to. We’ll always be here. I can’t guarantee the same for Darcy though.”

Sam’s right and talking to him helps but by the 30th, he’s still unable to make a decision. Darcy is set to leave the island on the afternoon of New Year’s Day. She packs her last piece of clothing into her small, pitiful bag and comes over to nestle in Steve’s lap.

“Remember that day when you said everything seemed surreal?”

How can he forget?

“This last week with you has been like a dream, Steve, and I never wanted it to end.”

“Me, too,” he interjects quickly because he doesn’t want her thinking that she’s the only one hurting. He’s upset, too.

“Shhh,” she says, silencing him with a kiss. “But I’m leaving and you’ll be going to New York soon, and I just… I just want us to spend this one, last day without worrying about anything.” She gives him a pleading look. “Can we do that?”

His gut twists at the expression on her face. At that moment, he’s sure he will go to any lengths to bring a smile to her face. “Okay yeah, we can do that.”

She’s relieved. “Besides, I’ll be back in New York before you know it and if you haven’t found someone else in that time, we can totally get together.”

Steve frowns. “I’m not going to find anyone else. I’m going to wait for you.”

The moment those words leave his mouth, he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Because they give the impression that he’s already made up his mind about not accompanying her. The light in Darcy’s eyes dims a little but she doesn’t say anything, just closes her eyes and melts into him.

The next day she goes to the retirement home to bid everyone farewell. Steve goes with her. It’s a teary one hour filled with hugs and kisses and words of praises from her colleagues and the residents. Everyone seems to be sad that Darcy’s leaving them. Some of the old men are in love with her. She gives them all a peck on the cheek and her contact details in case they want to stay in touch. It’s sweet and Steve is not jealous at all. He stands in a corner with Hanale, who watches Darcy with a faint smile on his face.

Darcy hugs Nani, waves to everyone one last time and then ambles over to them, tears in her eyes. She holds out a hand for her boss.

“Thanks for letting me be a part of your family,” she says. “I’ll miss everything but the bland food.”

Hanale throws his head back and laughs. He squeezes Darcy’s hand and wishes her the best in life.

They go to the Sea Life Park next. Darcy heads to the seal exhibit while Steve goes to visit Tiko. The dolphin doesn’t make it easy for him to say goodbye. Steve throws him Wanda’s stress ball to play with while he explains how, with Darcy gone, he’s got nothing to do on the island. “And all my friends are in New York. I can’t stay here forever…”

He places a hand on Tiko’s wet snout. “I’ll miss you, buddy.”

Steve thanks the caretaker of the exhibit for always letting him in before leaving to find Darcy.

The island is alight with celebration and anticipation of the new year. The trees are adorned with little twinkling lights, streets have been cleaned, everywhere they look people seem excited, and everyone is preparing for the grand New Year Eve’s party on the Waikiki beach. If possible, the island looks more colorful and wonderful than before, but rather than feeling cheerful like the rest of the people, all that hoopla just makes Steve’s heart ache.

His bag is packed but his mind still wavers. That morning, he had decided he was going with Darcy. By afternoon, he wanted to go home. Now, as he lays beside her on the bed, pressing long, slow kisses to her lips and feeling her fingers lightly caress his back, he wonders how he was stupid enough to be double minded. He won’t be able to survive without seeing her face every day, without making her his every night. It’s a no-brainer. He’s going with Darcy.

His decision made, he attacks Darcy with renewed fervor, cupping her face and kissing all over it, coaxing a laugh out of her. She tries to push him away but he holds on tight.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” Steve says cheerfully, combing his fingers through her hair. “It’s going to be a new year in” (he checks the time) “three minutes. Can’t I be happy about it?”

He bites her cheek, making her shriek with laughter. His ears pick up a faint clatter in the kitchen but he ignores it in favor of making Darcy laugh more. She turns to her side until they’re facing each other and wraps her arm around his waist.

“I guess I can’t fault your happiness.” She beams when he pulls her close until their bodies are pressed together at the front. She warms him up, his little space heater. It’s something he can get used to. Even after they return to New York, he’s going to make her stay with him. No way is she warming any other bed but his.

“Countdown in twenty,” Darcy whispers, looking over his shoulder to check the time.

Steve shifts forward and nudges her face up with his nose so he can mouth wetly at her throat. “Did you make a resolution?”

“Nuh-uh. Did you?”

“I don’t think I’m good at keeping resolutions.”

“Why not?” She moans when his lips hit a particularly sensitive spot.

Steve freezes and strains his ears. “Did you hear something?”

Darcy looks down and blinks to clear the haze in her mind. “The countdown?”

“No.” Although he _can_ hear the countdown all the way from the beach. It’s really loud. “No. It came from inside the—”

The countdown ends and fireworks begin and Steve never gets to finish his sentence because the door to his room bangs open and someone switches on the lights.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Darcy yelps and dives under the covers, and Steve gapes in utter shock as the entire Avengers clan (plus Jane) pours into his room, wide grins on all their faces. All of them are carrying sizeable travel bags.

“Oh, look, Cap found Darcy!” Tony exclaims comically.

“Why do you hide from us, Lady Darcy?” Thor questions. He seems to have fully acclimated to Midgardian culture if he can find it in himself to joke about something like this. Jane shushes him and looks amusedly at the lump on the bed that’s Darcy.

Steve ignores them in favor of asking important questions. “What… what… what?” Apparently, the shock is affecting his ability to form words.

Bucky laughs and steps forward. “Look at his face. ‘Slike he’s seen a ghost.”

“We made all kinds of noises downstairs,” states Natasha, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you’d have already guessed we’re here.”

“D’you suppose the Captain’s losing his touch?” Scott asks Vision conversationally.

On his other side, Sam nods in agreement. “Or maybe Darcy is making his brain foggy.”

Darcy squeaks from under the covers and Steve snaps out of his stupor. He leans over and grabs his shirt from the floor, shoving it under the sheets to the distressed and very naked brunette. He turns back to look at his friends in wonder.

“What are you all doing here?”

“We came to surprise you,” says Wanda, a small satisfied smile on her face that he’s never seen her wearing before.

“Birdbrain told us you were worried about us,” begins Bucky.

“So we packed our bags and came to you,” adds Bruce.

“Oh, and we’re all going to Morocco,” finishes Tony, almost as an afterthought.

Darcy zips out of the covers, now wearing Steve’s shirt, sheet tightly wrapped around her waist. “What?”

Steve briefly reflects on how totally ravished she looks, with her hair looking like a nest and lips blurred around the edges. It doesn’t really make much difference that she’s covered now, because she still looks undeniably sinful. He catches Bucky’s eyes lingering on her in surprise and Steve smirks. _Back off, Buck_ , he mentally commands. _She’s mine_.

Darcy smacks his arm, bringing him back to the conversation. “They’re coming to Morocco,” she says faintly.

Steve looks at his friends, trying vainly to not let the hope show in his eyes. It’s a bad idea that’s so good that his brain is having a hard time comprehending the consequences to such a decision.

Thor nods in confirmation. “I’m most excited to journey far and wide in this realm.”

“Me, too,” squeals Jane.

“Me, three,” says Wanda.

“Me, four,” deadpans Scott.

“That’s enough,” says Vision in his polite British voice. “Let’s give the Captain and his lady some privacy.” He inclines his head at Steve. “We shall wait downstairs.” He floats out.

“What a buzzkill,” jokes Tony.

Bruce laughs and pushes him out after Vision. “You made him.”

Wanda and Scott follow, throwing cheerful waves behind them. Steve can hear Scott telling Wanda, “I brought Cassie’s Barbie. By the end of the month, this doll will have traveled more than I have in my entire life.”

Darcy is looking at Jane and Thor, all teary eyed and disbelieving. “You’re really coming?”

“Of course we are, Darcy,” smiles Jane, jiggling the handle of her suitcase. “Tony says everyone needs a vacation and this is the best idea ever, being with you and Steve.”

Thor squeezes Jane’s shoulders and they walk out, looking pleased. Steve turns his gaze to Bucky, Sam and Natasha.

“This is nice, guys,” he says. “But really, it’s a little extreme, don’t you think?” He feels Darcy’s glare on him but ignores it. “You do know that Darcy and I are going to be staying there for five weeks.”

Darcy gasps beside him, having no idea he was planning on accompanying her after all.

“It’s not extreme,” disputes Natasha. “We made a mistake in not coming with you to Hawaii. We’re making up for it.”

“That’s right, we stay together,” agrees Sam. “As I said, it’s just five weeks, not a lifetime.”

Steve shakes his head, unconvinced. “What if there’s a threat and we’re not there because we’re vacationing in Morocco?”

“That’s not going to happen,” says Bucky firmly. “We have the quinjet. We have weapons. _And_ we have no threats. Presently.”

“Isn’t five weeks a lot, though?” Steve forces himself to ask. He knows he’s making a weak argument, mostly because he really wants them to come.

“You’ve been staying here for a little more than that,” Natasha points out. “Seem like a lot to you?”

Steve glances sideways at Darcy. “No.”

“Good. That’s settled then.” Bucky salutes the couple on the bed and walks out the door, followed closely by Natasha, who throws Darcy an appraising look as she leaves.

“Don’t think too much,” advises Sam with a smile.

After he’s gone, shutting the door behind him, Steve slumps down and stares in shock at the ceiling.

“Wow,” whispers Darcy, turning to face him. “Can’t believe your friends would do this for you.”

Steve gulps and looks at her. “Yeah, they… like me.” It’s an understatement and judging by the expression on Darcy’s face, she knows it.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, absorbing everything, trying to adjust to the news that they are all going somewhere together and it’s not to fight. Then, Darcy squeals and jumps on him, smothering him with kisses. “This is the best New Year’s ever!”

Steve laughs and holds her close. It indeed is. They make themselves decent and go downstairs to welcome the new year with a blast.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the photo set for this story on my [tumblr](http://littleplebe.tumblr.com/post/155445606939/for-gingerlockzzz-thank-you-for-the-wonderful) page.


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